


Or You Could Just Talk, Arthur

by storm_of_sharp_things



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Cabins, Cuddles, Fireplaces, M/M, Snowing - Freeform, catboy!Eames, fairy tale references, soft blankets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26048863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things
Summary: Arthur needs a little bit of a break and Eames intends to make him take one, even if it means he has to nap himself. Also, they really should learn to discuss things like adults :)
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	Or You Could Just Talk, Arthur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deinvati](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, dei!
> 
> A little gift ficlet referencing a fairy tale bit you liked from my Big Bang and a fairy tale bit from a drabble of yours that made me laugh!

The vibration of his phone on the hotel room desk startled him and he scrabbled for it, sighing at the poker chip icon displayed before answering. “This better be a fucking emergency, Eames...”

“I’m in the elevator on my way up, Arthur, unlock your door.”

“You’re supposed to be in Amalfi.”

“I finished early because _someone_ doesn’t know how to pace himself. Close your laptop and get the door.”

Arthur muttered something rude before hanging up and got the door open as Eames was striding down the hallway, a grim look on his face.

“Look, Eames, you can’t just...erk!” Arthur squawked as Eames shoved him hard enough to land him on his back on the bed. “Goddammit!”

“Luis said you weren’t sleeping, Arthur. We talked about this.” Eames yanked Arthur’s shoes off, tossing them aside before stripping him entirely.

“Eames! Not during a job!”

“That’s _your_ rule, not mine. But we’re not having sex just yet, you wound-up gibbon,” Eames snapped. He threw a pair of pajama bottoms at Arthur and pulled the PASIV out of hiding.

Arthur scowled at him as he pulled them on. “There was a lot of work to be done.” His voice sounded sulky even to himself and he had to look away, crossing his arms. “And you weren’t here,” he finished almost soundlessly.

Eames paused to give him a look from under his eyebrows. “That’s sweet and also frankly manipulative, my darling. Give me your arm.”

Arthur snorted and then sighed, straightening his arm to let Eames insert the cannula.

* * *

It was a small but snug log cabin, lit by a gorgeous fire crackling in the big stone fireplace, and Arthur settled back on the sofa to sit cross-legged with a warm blanket around his shoulders. The thick soft knit was luxurious against his bare skin and gave off the subtle fragrance of Eames’ favorite cologne. Through the windows, Arthur could see a occasional glimpse of dark pine trees past the driving snow, and, on the side table at his elbow, there was a small lamp, a stack of well-read mystery novels, and a mug of steaming coffee.

“Speaking of frank manipulation, Eames,” he muttered, his shoulders already relaxing. “Is this another fairy tale? If this is the house of wood, I’m really not in the mood for a blowhard wolf to show up.”

“You should know to trust me more than that,” Eames chuckled as he came around into view.

Arthur blinked. “Puss In Boots again?”

Eames turned around for him, showing off; he was wearing the same pajama bottoms as Arthur but a thick plush tail curled gently away from his backside, and triangular furry ears twitched on his head.

“You do make a convincing catboy,” Arthur admitted with a smile. “Are we having sex now?” he asked with a stir of interest.

“Nope.” Eames slipped under the blanket to curl on the sofa, head settling on Arthur’s leg. Arthur tentatively petted the furry ears as Eames started to purr. “I’m going to take a nap and you’re going to read one of your beloved whodunnits.”

Arthur smiled. “Are you going to keep purring at me? Because that might throw a wrench into the works.”

“They’re called spanners, love. And anyway, that’s what the coffee is for.” Eames nestled down more comfortably, rubbing his cheek against the soft flannel covering Arthur’s thigh. “Nothing to do but read and sip and watch the fire while a snowstorm keeps us inside.”

“And, apparently, pet my catboy.” Arthur watched Eames’ eyes close as his ears were stroked, and the deep purr grew rough before finally subsiding to quiet breaths.

He glanced over the pile of novels, letting his fingers glide over several titles before picking one at random. He took a sip of the excellent coffee, and smiled to himself, utterly content.

This was worth every extra hour of work it had taken to persuade Luis he needed to call Eames back early. Of course he wouldn’t be admitting to Eames that Arthur had found himself missing him too much; their game of creative manipulation was just too enjoyable to give up yet. After all, Arthur didn’t know how long their relationship would last, but right now, he lived for these precious moments of quiet comfort where Eames demonstrated just how cherished he was. 

Arthur smiled to himself as he turned the pages. He’d have to make it up to Eames for denying him the opportunity to linger on the beaches of Amalfi. But he was sure he could think of one or two ways.


End file.
